


Thesis and antithesis

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Both TWs are only for chapter 10, M/M, it's like dissidia but reimagined, tw: attempted suicide, tw: child abuse, what if Sephiroth was sane?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:19:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19189942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: The force of Order and the force of Discord have been fighting since time immemorial, their champions little more than tokens on a chessboard.This is not the story of Cosmos and Chaos, though their struggles set the stage for the players to appear. This is the story of the One-Winged Angel and his antithesis, in a kind of dance they have never done before.(Follows the basic premise of Dissidia, but diverges from any of the existing storylines and pulls in characters that have never been in a Dissidia game before, but should be (i.e. Ardyn.) The focus is on Cloud and Sephiroth, but many others make an appearance.)





	1. Chapter 1

Sephiroth could remember every moment, with a terrible crystal clarity. The sharp spiraling notes of Jenova’s song and what it felt like to  _ burn _ . 

His long fingers danced across the white and black keys of the piano in a composition all his own, the notes filling the still air around him with a song that sounded more like a scream. Some of the tune was Jenova’s siren’s call, but more of it was himself, his hate and his anger, his heart as bright and hot as the Meteor, and just as destructive. 

The song swelled and crested and broke, each complex harmony its own thread of passion or fury or ruin, until it had run its course, and there was silence once again. 

Sephiroth let the quiet settle in the darkened room. The only illumination came from the lights of the city outside his window, glittering in darkness. From the piano bench, he could look out over the city they called Insomnia. It wasn’t the “real” Insomnia, of course, but rather a shadow, an echo, just like Midgar to the south. It belonged to another of the warriors Chaos had called into this realm.

“I didn’t know you wrote music,” Ultimecia said, in her satin-smooth voice. She stepped into the room, lazily letting an orb of light drift from her fingertips up to the ceiling. 

“How do you know I wrote it?” Sephiroth asked.

Ultimecia smiled. “Just a guess.” 

When she moved across the room, her long skirts rippled around her feet like a stream of water, her strides so small and even she seemed to be gliding over the wood floor. Sephiroth watched her, waiting. She was here because she wanted something--it didn’t take a sorceress’s enhanced perception to figure that out. 

“Someone else from your world is here,” she finally said. “And he’s a serious threat. He almost killed Seifer, and he’s heading straight for Chaos’s throne. Against Cosmos’s wishes.”

Sephiroth ran his fingers over the black lacquered surface of the piano. He didn’t need to ask who it was. He knew. 

_ My puppet.  _

“Like I told you,” he said, meeting Ultimecia’s gaze. “I don’t do that anymore.” 

“So you said.” She crossed her arms. “I just thought you might want to know. They say Cloud Strife killed you three times. I thought you might want to watch Chaos destroy him.” 

Sephiroth turned his attention back to the piano. “Goodnight, Ultimecia.” 

He heard her sigh--no doubt she had hoped to bring him back into the fold with such enticing bait. 

It wasn’t until he could feel the electric crackle of her magic dissipate into the cool night air that he turned around, alone again in his empty apartment above a city that was little more than a mirage. 

His fingers spread over the keys, and then he began to play another song, a melancholy composition that spoke of a long journey far from over, a heavy sword and an impossible task, a country boy far from home. 

If there was an answer to the question that was Sephiroth, it was very clearly written in the palm that held Cloud Strife’s sword. 

Sephiroth got up, carefully pulling the wooden cover over the piano keys. He stepped out onto the balcony, put his foot up on the railing, and dove into the darkness. 

A short time later, a single black feather drifted to a gentle landing on the street below. 

#

Cloud Strife was pissed. 

He’d woken up this morning, kissed the kids goodbye, hugged Tifa, and stepped out the door waving to their smiling faces. He’d made his way through Edge’s crowded streets, then let Fenrir devour the black stripe of open road before him all the way to Junon. 

Except that halfway through, there had been some kind of weird electrical storm, and when it cleared, he was in a barren stretch of nowhere, craggy red rock and bare soil as far as he could see. 

He was glad that Fenrir had made it into this strange alter-world with him, the package to be delivered still secure in one of Fenrir’s many compartments. With speed on his side, it hadn’t taken him long to find the tower where Cosmos explained the basics of the situation to him. 

She had wanted to go into much more depth, but he’d heard enough. Eternal war sounded like a shitty way to spend his weekend, so he figured he’d try and put a stop to it. Killing the bad guy seemed like the simplest and most effective plan, so he set out to do just that. The few other warriors Cosmos had gathered warned him against it, telling him this “Chaos” guy was incredibly strong. 

In their defense, it was probably true. But after you’d faced down Sephiroth for the third time, the God of Discord didn’t sound quite so scary. 

And really, what did Cloud have to lose? 

The answer, sadly, was not much more than it had been when he’d first asked himself that question, on their long quest to stop Sephiroth from summoning Meteor. Sephiroth had taken Cloud’s home and his family, and although he now had dear friends and more money than his mother could have dreamed of, he never really got those two things back. 

_ So either I curbstomp Chaos and go home, or I get killed trying.  _ Cloud hunkered down a little further and gunned Fenrir’s engine.  _ Either way, I get outta here.  _

He glanced at the clock on Fenrir’s dash, but time was really wonky in this place, so it might have been wildly inaccurate. It felt like afternoon, at any rate. 

When he looked up, there was a tall figure in a black coat standing about a hundred feet away, directly in his path. 

“No,” Cloud said, shaking his head, pushing hard on the gas pedal. “No. No fucking way.” 

The figure didn’t step aside until the very last second, and then only barely, so that Cloud felt the wisps of long silver hair brush past him, caught up in the wind he generated as he sped by. 

He slowed his pace, swung the motorcycle around, and dismounted. Fenrir’s compartments opened, and Cloud pulled out First Tsurugi, twirling it in his hand as he advanced on his foe. 

Sephiroth was unarmed, but that didn’t mean anything. “I keep telling people I’m not doing this anymore,” he said. 

“Then why--” Cloud swung First Tsurugi in a fierce arc, which Sephiroth gracefully sidestepped. “Why the hell are you here?” 

“For the same reason you are, I assume,” Sephiroth said. 

Cloud’s lips pulled back in a snarl, and he lunged forward. The ring of steel on steel filled the barren landscape, and Cloud took a slight step back, jarred by the impact. It had been a long time since he’d fought someone with the same sheer physical strength as Sephiroth. 

“I just wanted to tell you,” Sephiroth said, holding the Masamune with only one fucking hand because he was that kind of show off, “that if you kill Chaos, it’s not going to change anything. And he’s much stronger than you think.” 

“Thanks for the warning.” Cloud swung again, and Sephiroth parried, then pressed the attack in a graceful flurry of blows that almost knocked Cloud off his feet. 

Sephiroth had a quiet, private smile on his face as he fought with a finesse and cleverness he’d never had before. His fighting style as Cloud knew it was brutal and direct, relying on his superhuman strength rather than speed or strategy. 

It took Cloud a few moments to adapt to this new, different foe. In every other battle they’d fought, Sephiroth seemed to be only half present, listening to a crescendo only he could hear. But today, he looked like he was fully immersed in the moment, and enjoying it too. 

Like this, focused and thoughtful, he was much harder to beat.

“I thought you were dead,” Cloud groaned, backflipping out of the way of a sweeping slice of the Masamune. 

“Maybe I am. Maybe this is what comes after.” 

“No fucking way am I gonna end up in the same place as you,” Cloud growled, punctuating his complaint with a firm thrust of First Tsurugi. 

“Hmm.” Sephiroth took two steps back and lowered his sword. “I don’t want to fight you anymore, Cloud.” 

Cloud kept First Tsurugi raised cautiously. “Then get the hell out of my way.” 

“Very well. I’ll leave you to a fight you can’t possibly win.” Sephiroth gave him a slight bow that almost bordered on polite, his great black wing appearing behind him. A few feathers drifted lazily through the air as his wing swept downward, pushing him into the sky. 

_ Even if I lose this fight, at least you won’t be the one who kills me, he thought, _ watching Sephiroth fly away.  

Cloud didn’t relax until his nemesis was a distant dark spot on the horizon. Then he put his sword back into Fenrir’s compartment and swung back astride the motorcycle. No matter how powerful Chaos was, there was no way he could be as annoying as Sephiroth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The first song he plays](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRiFdIHTA5w)
> 
>  
> 
> [The second song he plays](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-KpMgxKJxE)
> 
> [Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810399/chapters/46905448)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Sephiroth is OP and Cloud doesn't know when (or how) to give up

“He was a fuckin asshole,” Seifer groaned, waving the arm that wasn’t pulled tight to his chest in a sling at anyone who cared to listen. He looked awful, half his face black and purple from bruises, a broken arm and a splinted leg. Still, he was in remarkably good shape for someone who had tangled with Cloud Strife.

Sephiroth was leaning against the far wall, separate from the group, but close enough to hear Seifer even if he wasn’t shouting. Chaos had called all of his summoned warriors to a meeting in his fortress, but most of those gathered didn’t have much sympathy for Seifer (or anyone). Charitably, Chaos called them his “warriors.” But Sephiroth could already tell that a better description for most of them would be “villains.” 

It didn’t bother him--he was used to being a monster. In his time subduing and eventually conquering Wutai, everyone in that country had looked at him with hate and fear. After a while, he barely even noticed it. After all, their disdain was well earned, and meant that he was doing his job. 

Seifer, however, still had the wild-eyed eagerness of youth, beneath his crew-cut blonde hair. Sephiroth could recognize a military bearing when he saw one, even if Seifer seemed to now serve a different master.

“He got the jump on me,” Seifer continued, scowling. “The bastard fights dirty. Fuck, I don’t even know his stupid name.”

“Strife,” Sephiroth said impatiently. “Cloud Strife.” A warrior who Sephiroth had never known to fight anything but a fair, honest match. Cloud might be brutal and relentless, but he did have honor. This Seifer, he concluded, was full of shit.

“Strife. Whatever. At least he got what was coming to him.”

Sephiroth leaned casually back against the wall, hoping that Seifer would elaborate. It wouldn’t do to ask--if any of the powerful, ruthless people gathered here smelled even a hint of weakness, they would respond like sharks to blood in the water.

“Surely your Sorceress can heal you, Seifer,” said a smooth voice with a sardonic edge. Ardyn Izunia stepped into the light, waving an arm adorned with enough cloth to sail a ship. It should have looked patently ridiculous, but somehow, Ardyn always cut a sinister, striking figure.

Ultimecia turned toward them, a wineglass in her hand. She waved dismissively at Seifer. “If my Knight is unable to protect himself, he should bear the consequences, don’t you think?”

“Love you too, babe,” Seifer said, with an obnoxious smile that seemed a cover for something hollow.

She gave him a look of disgust and turned back to the odd jester she had been conversing with.

“Anyway, Chaos kicked the shit out of Strife,” Seifer continued. “He’s in worse shape than I am.”

“Where is he?” Sephiroth asked, unable to stop himself.

Seifer simply grinned. “Chained up in Pandaemonium with the demons. Good fuckin riddance.”

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Chaos executes him,” Ardyn said, a slight smile on his lips as he cast a dark, knowing glance at Sephiroth.

“Chaos shouldn’t wait too long,” Sephiroth said. “Cloud is not someone to underestimate.” That had been Sephiroth’s folly and his downfall. It should please him, now, to think of Cloud in chains, awaiting death. But somehow, it didn’t.

#

Cloud wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it felt like a lot. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness for most of it, which might have scared him if he hadn’t hit his head so goddamn hard against the stone pillar when Chaos threw him.

He was in some kind of weird dungeon, struggling to get his bearings and think clearly now that it seemed he’d be able to keep his eyes open for more than a minute or two. His entire body hurt, and when he brushed a hand along his mouth it came away with flakes of dried blood. He felt worse than after the second time Sephiroth impaled him on the Masamune, though not as bad as after the first time.

_Kinda weird that it’s happened twice and I’m still alive. I’m probably the only person Sephiroth has ever tried to kill and failed._

Cloud wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t sure he could get to his feet either. Waves of pain were rolling in from his left leg. When he glanced at it and saw the calf bent at a slightly unnatural angle, he had to fight a wave of nausea and dizziness. This was not the time to pass out.

Gritting his teeth, he tore a long strip of leather off of the edge of his jacket, wishing for a moment for his SOLDIER uniform. The suspenders would have come in handy for binding some of these wounds. But he would make do. He always did.

He did black out for a few moments when he bound his leg, pushing the bone back into place as well as he could. He had to rest after that, leaning back against the cold stone wall until he felt strong enough to finish tending to the injury.

Unfortunately, he still couldn’t put any weight on it. He swore under his breath, scowling fiercely, but there was really no alternative. He was going to have to crawl out of this prison, and hope he could find some potion or materia along the way.

When he got out of this mess, he was going to fucking ruin Chaos’s day. Somehow.

His pace was agonizingly slow, but the first few rooms of the dungeon were mercifully empty. He started to feel a glimmer of hope.

It was quickly stamped out when he rounded a corner and came face to face with a furious behemoth.

He scrambled for a weapon, but his sword was gone, his knife had been taken, and he couldn’t even stand.

_Fuck this._ He bared his teeth and snarled at the Behemoth. “Go to hell.”

The Behemoth kept advancing, slowly as though it knew there was no chance its prey would escape. Cloud pulled the boot off of his uninjured leg and threw it as hard as he could. It landed right between the beast’s eyes. The beast looked more surprised than injured, but at least it slowed him for a moment, enough time for Cloud to tear the heavy metal wolf’s head adornment from his jacket. He took a deep breath, aimed carefully, and launched it into the air.

It hit the behemoth directly in the eye just as it began to charge. The beast stopped short, howling in pain and shaking its head wildly.

“I do believe you might win this.” The cool, slightly amused voice came from just behind Cloud, and he turned his head quickly to see Sephiroth stepping out of the shadows, his long black coat flaring behind him. “I almost don’t want to interfere.”

“Sephiroth,” Cloud hissed, furious and in pain and even more furious that Sephiroth was the one to see him like this, too weak even to stand. “What the hell do you want?”

Sephiroth stepped forward, between Cloud and the behemoth. The beast lowered its head slowly, making a soft, pitiful whine.

Sephiroth cast a heal spell--on the fucking monster--and it raised its head with a snort that almost sounded joyful. It bent down and picked something up off the floor and dropped it into Sephiroth’s outstretched hand like a puppy retrieving a ball.

“Thank you,” Sephiroth said, then turned his attention to Cloud as the behemoth scampered off in the opposite direction like it had just been dismissed. “I believe this is yours.” He held out the metal wolf’s head, which was now covered in a thin, shining layer of behemoth slobber.

“This has got to be a dream,” Cloud muttered to himself. “Or a fuckin nightmare.” If it weren’t for the pain, he would totally believe it.

Sephiroth’s heal spell was an unexpected wash of cool relief so powerful it almost felt like dying. It was as strong as any spell Aerith might have cast in her best moments, and the thought of her made Cloud want to tear Sephiroth to pieces even as Sephiroth’s spell knit his flesh and bones back together.

“You look angry,” Sephiroth said calmly, as Cloud scrambled to his feet, in the ready crouch of his best fighting stance. “That’s going to make this a little more difficult.”

“Make what a little more difficult?” Cloud asked warily. He sure as hell wasn’t going along with any plan of Sephiroth’s.

“Getting out of here.” With absolutely no warning, Sephiroth turned and punched the dungeon wall. With a loud cracking sound, a fissure appeared in the middle, the stone crumbling beneath the impact of his fist. A second blow was enough to break through an entire section of the wall, the dark, ragged stone crumbling outward. Through the opening, Cloud could now see that they weren’t deep underground, like he’d assumed. They were high up in the air, the ground dizzyingly far below.

_Oh no. Oh hell no._ Cloud stepped back from the expanse of open air. “I’m gonna find some stairs.”

Sephiroth looked mildly amused, his eyes bright and sly rather than cold and vicious, like they had always been in the past. He had always looked at Cloud with such hate. Cloud wasn’t sure what to make of his expression now.

Sephiroth lunged forward, and Cloud darted back, but not quickly enough. One of Sephiroth’s arms wrapped firmly around his waist, pulling him closer than he’d ever wanted to be to his nemesis, while the other twisted his right hand behind his back. The grip was unbreakable, but not tight enough to hurt.

“Don’t struggle,” Sephiroth said, dragging them inexorably towards the broken wall. “I wouldn’t want to drop you.”

“Don’t you fuckin dare,” Cloud hissed, and then all the breath left his chest in a rush as they fell into the open air. “You fuckin asshole! At least warn me first.”

A low, dark chuckle, so close he could feel Sephiroth’s breath brush his ear. Sephiroth’s body was a warm, solid mass behind him, Sephiroth’s arms holding him securely in place as they flew above the barren landscape. The beat of Sephiroth’s wing was barely a whisper, but enough to keep them both effortlessly aloft.

“Dunno why Hojo never gave me a wing,” Cloud muttered. The brush with death and subsequent dramatic rescue had left him mostly just confused. His emotions hadn’t caught up to all the bizarre happenings he’d experienced in the past twenty minutes. “S’not fair.”

“It’s because you weren’t a child,” Sephiroth said. “Only young children—dosed with Jenova cells, of course—have the force of imagination to manifest their desires.”

Cloud stared petulantly into the dim sky. He didn’t want to think of Sephiroth as a child in a laboratory enclosure. He didn’t want to remember all the things Zack had told him about Sephiroth before, well, before everything.

_There’s a reason he is the way he is,_ Zack’s voice reminded Cloud.

“So your desire as a kid was to have one wing?” Cloud asked, ignoring Zack as much as possible.

“My desire was to escape,” Sephiroth said. They were nearing a city now, glittering lights in the darkness. “It took the form of a wing. Hojo sedated me before the second one could appear.

_I won’t feel sorry for him._ Cloud clenched his fists tightly _. I won’t feel anything for him. All he is, and all he’s ever been, and all he ever will be, is a monster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the thing with the behemoth -- I fully intend to explain that more in the story. I have a lot of headcanons about Sephiroth's connection to Jenova and what it allows him to do. One of these things is that monsters think of him as one of their own, rather than something to fight. Sometimes they follow him around like really ugly pets, but they don't generally attack him unless he attacks first.


	3. Chapter 3

Sephiroth set Cloud down gently on the balcony outside the apartment where he’d been staying. He felt a small pang of regret doing so. It had been oddly pleasant to fly with Cloud in his arms, a privilege he was not likely to be given again. 

“Where the hell are we?” Cloud asked, looking around. He looked weary, with dark circles under his eyes. The hem of his black leather jacket had been torn away and the left side of his shirt was entirely the dark rust red of dried blood. Blood and grime were smeared on his face and clung to the blonde spikes of his hair.

“Insomnia. It was brought here with one of Chaos’s warriors.” 

Cloud sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. “What now?”

Sephiroth considered it. Cloud looked exhausted, but his mako enhanced body would recover more quickly if his stomach was full. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

Cloud’s eyes flashed like he’d just been insulted. “Why?”

“I didn’t think Chaos would feed you, so I assumed you’d be hungry.” 

“No. Why are you doing this? Why save me?”

Sephiroth met his eyes, sky blue and mako-bright. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“There are only four people that I have ever loved,” Cloud said, speaking slowly, stressing each word. “One of them you burned to death with the rest of Nibelheim. One of them you left to die facing down an army of Shinra gunmen. One of them you killed like a human sacrifice on an altar in the Forgotten City. And the one that’s still alive? Sometimes she still cries at night for her family, the family you took away from her when she was just a little girl.” 

It would be easy to say that all those deaths, all that destruction, was Jenova’s doing, a dance to her sinister song. But Jenova had not given Sephiroth an order so much as she had given him an excuse. Her call was madness, but he heeded it anyway, knowingly. Because he wanted to see the world burn. He had finally found something that felt like family, like love, and he would have destroyed the entire Planet to keep it. 

“I am sorry,” Sephiroth said, finally, after a long silence had settled between them, Cloud’s eyes glittering with unshed tears, Sephiroth’s heart as heavy as a stone in his chest. “For Zack. I am sorry for what happened to Zack.” 

“And Aerith?” Cloud snarled. “And Tifa’s family? And--” his voice broke-- “my mom?” 

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Sephiroth said, honestly. Tifa’s family and Cloud’s mother had been incidental deaths, casualties of Sephiroth’s rage. And the truth was, he felt some regret that he had caused Cloud such pain. But Cloud would be a different man, if his mother had lived, if Aerith had. Those deaths were the forge that tempered the unbreakable steel inside him. 

“That’s because there is no answer,” Cloud said, his voice slightly hoarse. He brushed his hand roughly over his eyes and cleared his throat. “So are you gonna feed me or what?” 

“Yes,” Sephiroth said. “I am.” 

Cloud’s question did have merit, however. Sephiroth wasn’t sure of the reason behind his actions, only that he’d wanted to take them. Only that the thought of Cloud dying a slow death at Chaos’s hands was...unpleasant. 

As he stood in the kitchen, cooking a simple meal for the deadliest adversary he’d ever faced, he wondered about it. The strangest thing about this place he’d been called to was not the unending cycle of war or the bleak emptiness of most of the surroundings. Instead, it was the realization of his own freedom. 

He had spent his life as Shinra’s weapon, and then as Jenova’s. How strange, then, to suddenly find himself with no orders to follow, no will to heed except his own. 

He could do whatever he wanted--no one could stop him. The thought was as unnerving as it was liberating. 

“Thanks,” Cloud said gruffly, when the soup was placed on the table in front of him. He didn’t look at Sephiroth. 

Despite this, Sephiroth give him a slight smile. It was the first thing Cloud had said that wasn’t laced with hostility. 

They ate in silence, and afterwards Sephiroth directed Cloud to the second bedroom, where he could take a shower. He left a change of clothes on the bed--they wouldn’t really fit Cloud, but he might be able to make do.

He set to cleaning the kitchen when he felt an odd prickle of awareness on the back of his neck. He turned off the water and could hear a slight rustling coming from near the front door. Quickly, he went to investigate. 

“It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?” Ardyn Izunia was standing in the foyer of Sephiroth’s refuge, closing a dripping umbrella. “It used to be mine.” 

Sephiroth crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, eyes narrowed. Had none of the villains called to Chaos’s side ever learned to knock? 

“Isn’t it strange that you took up residence here, in someone else’s homeland?” Ardyn asked. “Wouldn’t you rather nest in Shinra Tower?” 

“Have you ever been to Shinra Tower?” Sephiroth asked dryly. 

“This is a nice place. You’ll have to give me a tour,” Ardyn said. He stepped towards the hallway that led into the rest of the apartment. 

Sephiroth moved quickly into his path. Cloud was probably sleeping in the extra bedroom by now, surely exhausted by his ordeal. Sephiroth did not want to wake him, and even more than that, did not want to advertise that the prisoner missing from Chaos’s dungeon was here, with him. 

Ardyn gave him a wicked grin that reminded him briefly of Genesis, that old wound—sunk deep, poorly healed—aching for just a moment. “Something you don’t want me to see? Someone?”

“And if there is?” Sephiroth said. He had never been good at stealth or artifice, had never needed to. His strength was such that subterfuge was usually unnecessary. But his instincts told him that Ardyn was not to be trifled with either. 

“Well. That all depends on you, Sephiroth. I have a feeling you are a reasonable sort of person, and that we can work something out that will be mutually advantageous.” 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” 

“Such as a promise. Of aid, should I ask for it.” Ardyn fixed him with a steady gaze that made him feel like he was exposed all the way to his core. “I have a feeling you are a man who never breaks his word.” 

“I don’t trust you,” Sephiroth said. 

Ardyn laughed, sounding truly delighted. “You’d be a fool if you did. But what do you have to lose? You have no allies here to whom you owe loyalty. If I ask you to join a fight, is there anyone you won’t turn against?”

Sephiroth hesitated only a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Ardyn’s cunning eyes to catch. 

“I see,” Ardyn said, with a wry quirk of his mouth. “And if I assure you that Cloud Strife will come to no harm by my hand or yours, will you promise to stand by me against whoever else I might want to fight?”

Sephiroth turned it over in his head. It was true--there was no one here he would mourn, if he had to kill them. Except Cloud, apparently, and what a strange thought that was. Still, it was best to avoid a fight here and now, especially with someone as capable as Ardyn seemed to be. 

And having a leader to follow was appealing in its own way, though he would never admit it. Ardyn’s soul might be as black as midnight, but he was still likely a more measured and moral compass than Shinra, Inc or Jenova. 

“Very well,” Sephiroth said. “I accept.” 

“Wonderful.” Ardyn swept his arm expressively and gave an exaggerated bow. “Then I am at your service, Sephiroth.” 

Sephiroth rolled his eyes. 

“You know, I just have to ask,” Ardyn said, with a sardonic grin. “Why did you save him? Why go to all this trouble for someone who keeps killing you?”

“I don’t know,” Sephiroth said. Why lie? He didn’t understand his own actions, or the strange emotion that compelled him to take them. 

“Well,” Ardyn said, stepping forward with a panther’s speed and agility, “I would like to.” 

He grabbed Sephiroth by the throat, and before Sephiroth could retaliate, he felt a darkness come over him, not unlike Jenova’s song. And then he was falling, back, and back, into memory. 

#

_ Sephiroth leaned against the back wall of the training room, watching the Shinra cadets practice their hand to hand combat skills. His attention was on a small blonde fighter, a wiry young man with spiky blonde hair. The unfortunate cadet had been matched against a SOLDIER Second Class who took great pleasure in terrorizing those of lower rank. In a place like Shinra, that sort of thing was easy to get away with.  _

_ It was clear that while the cadet was proficient in combat, he was no match for a Mako-enhanced SOLDIER. It was also clear that the SOLDIER was not pulling his punches nearly as much as he should have. He knocked the cadet to the floor every time the cadet tried to land a blow, with enough force that the cadet always landed poorly. The smart thing for the cadet to do would be to stop trying, to give up and verbally acknowledge the SOLDIER’s superiority so that he could be paired with a different sparring partner. That was clearly what the SOLDIER wanted. _

_ But this cadet did not give up. Sephiroth watched, fascinated, as the cadet pried himself off the floor each time, wincing in pain, only to drop into a fighting stance and attack once more. This went on for nearly an hour, but even so he refused to give in. _

_ It ended when the class finished and the students filed out, the tenacious cadet at the very end of the line, limping slightly, his hand pressed to his ribs.  _

_ Sephiroth caught a glimpse of his eyes as the cadet walked past him and out of the door. Blue as the sky, with a startling innocence that belied the relentless determination he’d shown.  _

He came back, every day, just to be beaten down again.  _ Ardyn’s voice came from everywhere at once, filling Sephiroth’s mind.  _ Why didn’t you put a stop to it? 

_ Sephiroth didn’t answer, as they tumbled through the past, Hojo, Genesis, Angeal, Zack, Jenova all mixed up together. And Cloud. Always Cloud.  _

You wanted to see if he would break,  _ Ardyn said.  _ That’s it, isn’t it? No matter what you put him through, he simply wouldn’t break. 

_ The flames of Nibelheim were next, Cloud’s desperate cries for his mother. And in the reactor, a boy in blue Shinra fatigues, swinging a sword that was too large for him. _

_ The Temple of the Ancients, Jenova in his head like a siren. Cloud crawling forward with the Black Materia, fighting, fighting. Even as he obeyed, he fought. Even as he failed, he held on to hope. Even as he fell into darkness, he believed in light.  _

You covet his innocence,  _ Ardyn said, his voice echoing in Sephiroth’s head.  _ You desire him for his strength. He makes you feel as though you are not the only being in the universe to truly draw breath. And yet the very sight of you fills him with loathing. 

_ It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. Cloud was Sephiroth’s mortal enemy, the only one worthy of such a title.  _

_ Ardyn laughed, his voice sonorous and cruel.  _ I have seen enough to know that you will keep your word, Sephiroth. You can be certain I’ll return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm not 100% clear on how Ardyn's memory reading thing works but for the purposes of this story, it works like this.


	4. Chapter 4

Cloud woke to the soft sound of a melancholy song, the notes of the piano sweet and lilting. He got out of bed and stretched. He didn’t feel all that bad--sore, maybe, but considering he’d almost died a little while ago, it was remarkable. Sephiroth’s healing magic was as powerful as Aerith’s. 

He followed the music down the hallway to a large, open room where Sephiroth was sitting at the keyboard of a black grand piano. His eyes were closed, his hands dancing over the keys more quickly as the song reached its peak. He didn’t look like a monster or a murderer, and when his strange beauty wasn’t twisted by hate, Cloud found it hard to tear his gaze away. He stood in the doorway, half-enchanted, and listened until the last note faded away. 

Sephiroth let the silence linger for a few seconds, then opened his eyes and turned to Cloud. “How do you feel?” 

It was easy to forget what Sephiroth was when he continued to act like this, and every time Cloud let himself relax, it felt like he was betraying Aerith’s sacrifice all over again. 

“Fine,” Cloud said, gruffly. “I didn’t know you played the piano.” 

“There was one at Shinra Manor in Nibelheim,” Sephiroth said. “I spent some of my childhood there, in the lab Hojo had downstairs. When I was bored, I would teach myself to play.” 

“You grew up in Nibelheim?” Cloud asked, startled. Had Sephiroth been so close all that time? 

Sephiroth shrugged slightly, getting to his feet with a casual grace Cloud both envied and wanted to watch again. Sephiroth had put so much time and energy into a disciplined mastery of his sword and body that even his simplest movements were like art. “For a time. Hojo moved around a lot and always took me with him. I didn’t always know where we were, since in most places I wasn’t allowed to leave his lab.” 

Cloud wondered if Sephiroth knew how utterly bizarre his upbringing was, or if it just seemed normal to him. “I grew up in Nibelheim my whole life until I went to Midgar,” he said. “It was just me and my mom for most of it. Tifa’s house had a piano, so I learned to play a little before her dad told me to quit hanging around so much.”

“Hmm.” Sephiroth studied him pensively. “I set out clothes for you.” 

Cloud shrugged. He wasn’t about to wear something of Sephiroth’s, so he was still in the torn, bloody outfit he’d arrived in. “I gotta get going,” he said. 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “Where to?” 

“Gonna join up with Cosmos’s people again. So, uh, thanks for the rescue, I guess. Just know it doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick your ass if we fight again.” 

“Duly noted,” Sephiroth said, with a wry, bitter twist to his lips. “If you head west, you will eventually find yourself at Cosmos’s tower.” 

Cloud nodded and turned to go without much of a goodbye. It felt strange just walking away, though he wasn’t sure why.  _ What the hell am I supposed to say to Sephiroth of all people?  _ He had no idea. 

“Cloud.” Sephiroth’s voice stopped him when he was almost out the door. “You would have made a good SOLDIER, you know.” 

Cloud glanced back at him. His sixteen year old self would have been beyond thrilled to hear Sephiroth say that. As an adult, he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. 

“I was going to recommend you for SOLDIER,” Sephiroth continued. “If we had returned from Nibelheim, I would have.” 

Cloud turned to face him. “What does it matter?” he asked. There was no reason to dredge up the past that should have stayed dead and buried. 

Sephiroth was quiet for a moment, and it felt like there was the weight of things unsaid, hanging in the air between them. “Take care, Cloud,” he finally answered. 

It felt like Cloud had missed something, some vital connection that would make sense of all these bizarre events. He tried not to dwell on it, setting out in the direction Sephiroth had given him. If he could make his way back to Cosmos’s domain, he could start figuring out how to get back home. 

#

Things evened out a little after that. If there was one thing that felt familiar to Cloud, it was struggling against impossible odds with a band of formidable heroes by his side. The quest to stop Sephiroth had been, in some ways, the happiest time of his life, at least until Aerith died. 

_ At least until Sephiroth murdered her,  _ he reminded himself.  _ No matter what he acts like now, that fact will never change.  _

Now they were fighting against Chaos and his warriors, but it felt almost the same. Except that instead of traveling great distances, they were cooped up in the same few arenas, and without time devoted to travel, there was a lot of waiting between fights. 

This afternoon was one such time, and several of Cosmos’s warriors were gathered in one of the many parlors in her tower, sprawled across cushions and loveseats. Cloud was sitting cross legged on a giant round chair in the corner, watching as Noctis refilled a couple of glasses of wine that were getting low. 

“Never have I ever worn a crown,” Squall said. 

Noctis groaned. “That’s not fair. You’re targeting me.” But he lifted his wineglass and drank anway. 

In the corner, so did Lightning. At the curious glances of the assembled warriors, she shrugged. “It wasn’t mine.” 

It was Noctis’s turn next. He stared into the wine for a moment, and then smirked slightly at Lightning, the only woman currently present. “Never have I ever worn women’s clothes.” 

Lightning rolled her eyes and took a drink. Cloud--hoping to avoid notice--did as well. 

Noctis raised his eyebrows. “Now that’s a story I have to hear.”

“It was to save a friend,” Cloud said, with a pang of loneliness. He missed Tifa dearly, and wondered if she missed him too, if the kids were doing okay, and if her asshole Turk boyfriend was treating her right. 

“Sure,” Lightning drawled. 

“Friends.” Zidane hurried into the room and pulled open the curtains hiding the large window along one wall. “Look. Someone’s coming.” 

They all got up and gathered at the window, peering down at the barren landscape below, a stretch of cracked red dirt and craggy mountains off in the distance. 

“You’re kidding me,” Cloud mumbled. It was Fenrir, racing towards them, and the long silver hair flying in the wind was as good as a banner advertising the identity of the driver. 

“You know him?” Squall asked. 

“Motherfucker took my motorcycle,” Cloud growled. “I’m gonna fuckin kill him.” He hurried to the teleporter that would take him to the bottom of the tower. In a flash of cool white magic, he was on the ground floor, striding out into the dust. 

With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the greatsword Noctis had shared with him. He didn’t fully understand how Noctis’s arsenal of magical weapons worked, but it was reliable enough for him to count on, and that was all that mattered. Though he’d dearly like to have First Tsurugi back. The last thing he’d seen before blacking out on Chaos’s dais was the shine of his sword all the way across the platform, well out of reach.

Sephiroth turned the motorcycle in a showy stop, climbing off and running a hand through his now disheveled hair, pulling it away from his face. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Cloud asked. 

“Returning this. And your sword.”

Cloud couldn’t deny the rush of relief to have both back, but his bitter suspicion didn’t fade. “Why?” 

Sephiroth studied Cloud’s face intently. “Because I can. And because I want to.” 

“Are you trying to make up for what you did?” Cloud asked, scowling. He wasn’t really that angry, but he felt like he should be. He owed it to Aerith and Tifa and all the others never to forgive or forget their suffering. 

“Of course not. You can trust me when I say my motives are entirely selfish.” 

Cloud rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic.” 

“And you are always trouble, Cloud.” 

“I try.” 

Sephiroth chuckled. “I know.” His expression shifted to something more solemn. “There was a reason it was always you. Did you know that?” 

“No,” Cloud said softly, bewildered. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You are stronger and more tenacious than anyone with such a pure heart has any right to be,” Sephiroth said gravely. He pressed his thumb to the center of Cloud’s chin with a shocking tenderness. 

Cloud wasn’t sure how to respond to the gentle, intimate touch. 

“This world will be darker without you in it,” Sephiroth continued. His elegant features looked almost sorrowful. “Be well, Cloud Strife.” 

The strange interaction distracted Cloud from the dark magic growing and twisting in Sephiroth’s palm until it was too late, until Sephiroth’s hand was pressed hard against his chest, and then he was stumbling, falling backwards into darkness. He reached instinctively for a sword that wasn’t there. His other hand shot forward, grabbing blindly until his fingers found the warm leather of Sephiroth’s jacket. He yanked hard as the world was pulled away from him, and then everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliffhanger!! but don't worry, the next chapter is already mostly done.


	5. Chapter 5

Sephiroth had been meant to open a portal back to Gaia with magic Ardyn had stolen from Chaos and altered with his own dark powers and push Cloud Strife through. This served Ardyn’s purpose--to deprive Cosmos of one of her most powerful warriors--and Sephiroth’s ends as well. Sephiroth could tell Cloud wanted to be back on Gaia, surrounded by friends who loved him, as he had been before Cosmos decided to call him to this plane. And he had wanted, for once, to bring Cloud some minor piece of happiness rather than suffering. 

It had  _ nothing  _ to do with the strange and overwhelming emotions brought on by Cloud’s proximity, the ridiculous yearning and the way that he enjoyed Cloud’s unending need to fight at every turn, even as he wished for greater closeness. 

The whole thing was absurd. He could almost hear Genesis’s bright, mocking laugh, Genesis who had twice denied Cloud’s application to the SOLDIER program because--

_ Had he been jealous?  _ Sephiroth wondered, years too late. Genesis had loved Sephiroth, or at least he had tried. But their souls were both corrupted, Jenova’s evil in their bloodstream, and what was meant to be tender between them was more often cruel, and what should have been love looked more like hate. 

Yearning for intimacy aside, Sephiroth did not want to inflict on Cloud the same misery he and Genesis had together. 

So when Ardyn crafted his plan to send Cloud back to Gaia, Sephiroth was glad to help bring it to fruition. 

Yet again, he’d failed to consider the infinite tenacity of Cloud Strife. Which was why Sephiroth was not currently helping Ardyn and his generals tear down Cosmos’s tower, but instead had fallen through the short-lived portal along with Cloud and was now sprawled on top of him on a dusty wooden floor, sunlight falling in all around them. 

“Ow…” Cloud rubbed his head gently, blinking a few times. “Get off, you’re heavy.” He shoved Sephiroth half-heartedly. 

 Sephiroth laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Do you realize you’ve ruined yet another brilliant plan to take over a world?” 

“Huh,” Cloud murmured, half to himself. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh that wasn’t super creepy.”

Sephiroth pushed himself up on his elbows to look at Cloud, shifting to take most of his weight off of Cloud without pulling apart. Their position was better suited to a pair of lovers, rather than archenemies, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. There was no one he knew better than Cloud, after all. 

“So I stopped you from taking over that world?” Cloud asked, looking up at him, smug and satisfied.

“Not me. Ardyn. My job was merely to send you back to Gaia, and then aid him in the fight against Cosmos’s forces. But you pulled me through that portal with you, and then it closed. There is no way back.”

“That was a pretty weird place,” Cloud said. He leaned his head back against the dusty floor and poked Sephiroth gently in the chest. “I’m sorry I ruined your evil plans. Eternal war against the forces of good actually seems like something you’d enjoy.” 

“It would have been fun,” Sephiroth agreed. “I--”

The sound of footsteps in the doorway and a startled gasp stopped him. 

“You--” Tifa said, her voice choked with fear. “Get the hell off him, you bastard.”

Sephiroth got to his feet, Cloud scrambling to get up as well. 

“Get behind me,” Tifa whispered to the two small children with her. She turned to Sephiroth, eyes blazing. “How dare you come to this place? This was  _ her  _ place.” 

“Yeah,” Cloud said mildly, raising an eyebrow at Sephiroth. “I woulda thought being in a sacred place like this would, I dunno, burn you or something.” 

“Cloud,” Tifa said urgently. “Your sword is outside with Fenrir. Take the kids and get it--I’ll cover you for a minute.” She dropped into a fighting crouch, the fists that were as deadly as any other weapon raised before her. 

Sephiroth quickly assessed the situation and decided it would be unwise to engage. If he killed Tifa, Cloud would never forgive him. And there were already enough things Cloud would never forgive him for. 

With a great downward sweep of his wing, he took to the air, flying up through the hole in the roof of the church and out into the ash colored sky above the ruined wreck of Midgar. 

He looked down at the sundered city and wondered if the strange tightness in his chest was remorse, or simply annoyance at having been bested. Before Cloud Strife, he had never lost a fight. Before Cloud Strife, he had thought himself invincible. But he had learned differently, and he wondered if the bitterness he felt was simply his wounded pride, or something more.

#

“I thought you were dead,” Genesis said, leaning back on a plush red sofa, a wineglass in his hand. His hideout was deep beneath the dumbapple orchards of New Banora, but he’d furnished it with his usual flair, deep, luxurious shades of red and burgundy, glowing lamps that filled the room with golden light. 

Weiss stood in a corner, shirtless and immaculate, a silent but menacing bodyguard. 

“We all thought you were dead,” Genesis continued. “What brought you back, love? Unfinished business?” 

Sephiroth wondered--as he always did with Genesis--whether honesty would make him too vulnerable. Genesis had always been as sharp-edged as he was beautiful, and although the degradation was cured, Sephiroth doubted that much else had changed. 

“I’m looking for someone,” he said, finally. 

“Cloud Strife?” The corner of Genesis’s mouth quirked upward in a vicious smirk. “You know, when I heard it was your little pet who defeated you--twice--I thought,  _ now that’s an example of dramatic irony. _ ”

“He was hardly my  _ pet _ ,” Sephiroth said, rolling his eyes. Even when Cloud had been nothing more than another Shinra trooper, he had been far too proud and tenacious to be considered a “pet.” Not for Sephiroth, not for anyone. 

“Your puppet then,” Genesis said, with an annoyed wave of his hand. “Whatever. Do you want to know where he is or don’t you?” 

“I’m looking for a woman,” Sephiroth said. Sifting through the debris of Shinra Tower, he’d found Hojo’s notes, and with them, a name. “Lucrecia Crescent.”

“I know that name,” Weiss said softly, as though he was afraid of intruding. “Vincent Valentine said it. When we fought, when he thought he would die--he said that name. Like it was a prayer.” 

“Vincent Valentine, then,” Genesis said. “I do know where he is. He tries to keep a low profile, but since the Deepground Incident, we’ve been watching him.”

“Where is he?” Sephiroth asked. 

Genesis smirked, the smug turn of his lips that Sephiroth had once found both infuriating and endearing. He realized now that the anger was gone, but a certain fondness remained. “You can find him in Wutai.”

Sephiroth nodded. Of course Genesis knew him, knew his weaknesses. Sephiroth was intimately familiar with Wutai in the way only a conqueror could be, and well known to the people there. Years had passed, but he doubted they’d forgotten him.

“Weiss will give you the details when you go. But before you do,” Genesis looked up at Sephiroth with a wicked gleam in his eye, “you owe me at least one duel.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't read this as Genesis hate. I actually love Genesis and wrote a whole Genesis/Sephiroth series. But I do think that their relationship could be read as somewhat contentious.


	6. Chapter 6

“Don’t move,” Vincent Valentine growled, stepping out from behind a large, lush tree, his gun trained on Sephiroth’s head. “Don’t fucking move.” 

Sephiroth was not thrilled to be back in Wutai--the scent of the humid forest and the frequent heavy rains took him back to the war, to memories he’d rather forget. Of blood soaking into the rich dark soil and flames licking at humble wooden houses.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, Valentine,” Sephiroth said. 

“Don’t talk.” With his free hand, Valentine pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking away from Sephiroth for half a second to press a few buttons. Sephiroth did not take advantage of the opening. Valentine would likely be resistant to force, so it was best to use diplomacy to get the information Sephiroth wanted. 

“I’m trying to keep a low profile,” Sephiroth said, annoyed. “I’m not going to murder anyone, so I’d appreciate it if you refrain from telling anyone I’m here.” 

Vincent ignored him, pressing the phone to his ear with one hand while the other held his gun still and steady, his eyes fixed on Sephiroth’s face. “Cloud,” he said into the receiver. “I have bad news.” 

With his enhanced hearing, Sephiroth could pick up Cloud’s response, his voice tinny and distant. “Let me guess. He’s back?” 

“How did you know?” 

“Long story. Can I talk to him?”

Vincent hesitated, his red eyes widening. “You want to...talk to him?” 

“Yeah.”

Vincent, looking like he had just received some bizarre and not particularly pleasant piece of news, held the phone out to Sephiroth. “He wants to....talk.”  

Sephiroth took it, sighing. “Cloud, this is really none of your business.”

“You’re on my planet. Fuckin right it’s my business. Whatever you’re planning, I’m gonna stop it.”

“Cloud--” Sephiroth intended to explain to Cloud, logically and rationally, that he had no intention of destroying the planet this time around. That he was simply in pursuit of information about his mother,  _ his real mother,  _ and unfortunately Valentine was his only lead. But Cloud interrupted him in a tone that left no room for arguments. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You stay where Vincent can keep an eye on you. I mean it--don’t fuckin go  _ anywhere _ . I’ll be there as soon as I can get Cid to swing by with the airship.”

“That’s highly unnecessary,” Sephiroth protested. “I’m just--”

“And Sephiroth? Vincent is my friend. If you hurt him, I will end you a fourth time.” 

With that, Cloud hung up. Sephiroth glanced at the phone’s dark screen, suppressing a sigh. He supposed Cloud’s anger was not without reason, but it was getting awfully tiresome. He had put that past behind him--why couldn’t Cloud do the same? After all, Cloud was the one who had killed him, three times over. If anyone held a grudge, it should be Sephiroth. Dying was an incredibly unpleasant experience, no matter how many times you’d done it before. 

Vincent took his phone back without letting the barrel of his gun waver even slightly. Sephiroth rolled his eyes. At this pace, Vincent’s hand was going to be very tired by the time Cloud arrived. 

“I’m looking for someone,” Sephiroth said. “Someone you know.” 

Vincent didn’t answer, just watched him suspiciously. 

“Lucrecia Crescent. Where is she?” 

Finally, he had the satisfaction of seeing emotion flicker in Vincent’s eyes. “Why do you want to find her?” 

Sephiroth hid his impatience. “Why do you think? Tell me where she is.” 

“No,” Vincent said. 

“No?” The cool, solid length of the Masamune materialized in Sephiroth’s hand. 

“You’ll break her heart,” Vincent said. “She’s suffered enough.” 

With a flick of Sephiroth’s wrist, the sword swung too quickly to follow, stopping just short of piercing Vincent’s chest. “She is my mother. I deserve to meet her. Tell me where she is, or I will cut you into little pieces just to see how well you regenerate.” 

“No.” Vincent didn’t flinch, but after several moments passed without the steel sword plunging into his heart, he blinked at Sephiroth, obviously confused. “Aren’t you going to…?” 

“You’re Cloud’s friend, aren’t you?” Sephiroth asked. “You two are close?” 

Vincent nodded. “I had been asleep for decades. He was the one to wake me. In more ways than one.” 

Sephiroth frowned. That sounded almost romantic, and for some reason the thought of this man putting his hands on Cloud filled him with a strange, hot anger. 

“In more ways than one,” he repeated.

“I love him,” Vincent said, simply. “We...tried it, for a little while. But Cloud is looking for something. Someone. It isn’t me.” 

Sephiroth nodded, his anger easing. “Cloud would be unhappy if you were dead.” He lowered his sword. “Therefore, you are safe from me. For now.” 

“I...see.” Vincent’s eyes tracked the shining blade, bemused, but he lowered his weapon as well. “You may as well come inside and have a cup of tea while you wait for him.”

#

_ Cloud didn’t take off his Shinra helmet until he was safely back in the inn room that Sephiroth had gotten them for the night. It was pretty late--he’d spent a long time talking to his mom, and was glad he’d seen her. Zack was lying on top of one of the narrow twin beds, his PHS in his hand. Probably texting with his girlfriend, who he kept promising to one day introduce Cloud to. He’d told Cloud so much about the flower girl that Cloud felt like he knew her already.  _

_ “Have fun?” Zack asked, lowering his phone to grin at Cloud. “Did you visit that cutie Tifa?” _

_ Cloud rolled his eyes. “I just saw my mom.”  _

_ “Good for you.” Zack’s expression softened. “Did you get some dinner? Sephiroth and I already ate, but you can probably get something downstairs if you’re hungry.”  _

_ “My mom cooked for me. Is Sephiroth here?” He glanced warily at the door to the other part of the suite, where he assumed Sephiroth, the ranking officer, would sleep.  _

_ “Nah. He doesn’t sleep like normal people.” Zack chuckled. “He’ll be in for two or three hours before dawn, that’s it.”  _

_ “You go on a lot of missions with him?” Cloud asked, sitting cross legged on the other bed. He was trying to appear casual, but the sly smile Zack gave him made him think he wasn’t doing it very well.  _

_ “Sure. Ever since...well, you know. It’s just him and me now.” Zack looked away, cleared his throat, then turned back to Cloud with determined cheer. “And someday you, of course.”  _

_ Cloud felt a pleased flush rise in his neck, and he couldn’t hold Zack’s gaze. This wasn’t the first time Zack had told him he was SOLDIER material, but he never got used to it. He still wasn’t used to having a friend at all.  _

_ “Anyway, there’s gonna be a lot of fighting on this mission, getting through the mountains,” Zack said. “This is your chance to step up and show me and Sephiroth what you’ve got. And maybe impress that Tifa a little too.” Zack winked at him.  _

_ Cloud laughed uncomfortably. Impressing Tifa had always seemed daunting, but impressing Sephiroth was well beyond impossible. Still, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try. This would be his third time applying to the SOLDIER program. If Sephiroth put in a good word for him, that would make all the difference.  _

_ Later, as he undressed for his shower, he could hear Sephiroth’s low voice outside the bathroom door, and Zack’s more boisterous tone responding. He couldn’t understand the words, but Zack laughed, and Sephiroth didn’t.  _

_ And then it was quiet again. He turned on the water and let it warm, then stepped into the glass enclosure. The steam and the heat were pleasant--much nicer than the barely warm showers he always took at home. His mom had never had much money, and their water heater was ancient, barely functional.  _

_ He sent her a portion of every Shinra paycheck. It wasn’t much, and she protested often, but he knew that it made a difference, that it meant meat on the table rather than just bread, that it was the reason for the warm new coat he’d seen hanging by the door. Thinking of that, the way that he took care of her and protected her, always made him feel strong.  _

_ Standing under the hot water, he didn’t think about his mother for long, however. At sixteen, his body was making constant--and embarrassing--demands, and this was probably the only opportunity he’d have to be alone for a while.  _

_ He closed his eyes and wished he could think of someone like Tifa, sweet and kind. Or someone like Zack, who made him laugh, who made him feel safe.  _

_ But that wasn’t what he wanted.  _

_ He wanted someone as wickedly sharp as a naked blade, someone whose very presence set him on alert, like a deer catching the scent of a wolf. He wanted to pull hard on the long strands of white hair that were always flying loose, he wanted Sephiroth to pin him against a wall with a hand on his throat, gently squeezing. He wanted that edge of danger, that fear that makes the world come alive. And who could be more dangerous -- or more beautiful -- than Sephiroth?  _

#

Cloud closed his eyes, letting the warm water wash away the grime of the road. He’d driven Fenrir from Edge over to Junon, where Cid had picked him up. Now he was showering onboard the Highwind as they crossed the western continent on the way to Wutai. 

He wasn’t a blushing cadet anymore, speechless when confronted with the legendary hero. But Sephiroth was always in his thoughts when he was at his most vulnerable. The source of his fear, the cause of his grief, and for a long time, his reason for existing. Every time dawn touched his seedy inn room or rocky campsite on his journey across the Planet, Cloud would picture Sephiroth in the light from the fires, as he caught Cloud’s gaze and held it before turning and walking away through the flames as though he didn’t even feel the oppressive heat of a burning village. 

Cloud would picture those glowing green eyes and the bitter force of his hate would give him the strength to get out of bed, strap the Buster Sword to his back, and lead his companions on a journey from which none of them would return the same. 

Now he wasn’t sure if Sephiroth had looked at him like that at all, or if it was a figment of his fractured imagination. He had very few memories he could trust, an unstable foundation on which he’d tried to build an identity for himself separate from Zack. He didn’t know how well he’d succeeded, but he was learning to live with uncertainty. 

He really hoped Sephiroth wasn’t trying to destroy the Planet in some new and bizarre way. 

He got out of the shower and put on his armor, the comforting weight of First Tsurugi on his back. It wasn’t until he glanced at the mirror that he realized he was wearing his SOLDIER gear, which he’d grabbed without really looking in his eagerness to be on his way. 

He wondered who it had belonged to--it fit him too well to have been a spare of Zack’s. Sephiroth probably knew, but there was no way in hell Cloud was going to make that kind of small talk with him. 

He took a deep breath to clear his head, as the Highwind slowed to a stop. He hoped he wasn’t going to find Vincent bleeding on the floor of the simple home he shared with Yuffie. He should have been more worried, but somehow he wasn’t. The same certainty that had given him the confidence to face Sephiroth before told him that whatever was before him, he was strong enough for it. 

Cid followed him down the ramp, and Vincent stepped out of his cabin to meet them. He looked unharmed and surprisingly calm. 

“Cloud,” he said, with a smile that bore only traces of melancholy. He’d forgiven Cloud for his wanderlust, his issues with intimacy, and ultimately, his inability to maintain a relationship, and somehow, they were still friends. 

“Hey,” Cloud said. He wanted to give Vincent a hug, but he was awkward with such gestures at the best of times. 

“Heya, Vince,” Cid said with a crooked smile. “Long time no see, pal. Glad to see you’re not danglin’ off the end of the Masamune.” 

“He’s in the backyard,” Vincent said, looking utterly baffled by the whole situation. “If you want to speak to him.” 

Cloud nodded. “Thanks, Vincent. I owe you one.” 

Vincent gave him another small smile. “You owe me many. Go. If you decide to kill him, please try not to get blood on Yuffie’s vegetable garden.” 

“Sure.” Cloud almost laughed at the thought of vicious, deadly Yuffie tending a garden. He left Vincent and Cid to catch up and walked around the cabin to the backyard. Yuffie and Vincent had cleared away the jungle, leaving a wide open space to spar in, lined on one side with a flourishing garden. 

Sephiroth was standing in the center of the space, his sword in his hand, moving fluidly through a kata, the Masamune a sweeping arc as he transitioned from pose to pose. He had taken off his long black coat and was shirtless except for the straps that crossed his chest. Cloud stood there for a moment, entranced. When his power and grace were not being directed into an effort to kill Cloud and dance on his corpse, Sephiroth was  _ beautiful _ , and Cloud found it hard to tear his eyes away. 

After a moment Sephiroth lowered his sword, brushed his hair out of his face, and glanced at Cloud. “Are you here to talk or just stare at me in case I decide to summon another Meteor?” 

_ He is the most evil person on this Planet,  _ Cloud thought to himself.  _ He is everything I hate. He would kill everyone I love in a heartbeat if he could.  _

But somehow the mantra did little to diminish the flush of desire that Cloud hoped Sephiroth wouldn’t notice. 

“You never tie your hair back,” Cloud said. It was probably the most inane thing he could have said in these circumstances, but it slipped out without thinking as he wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through the long silver hair that never really seemed to get tangled or obscure his vision enough to be a disadvantage in a swordfight. 

Sephiroth gave him an odd look. 

“Just seems like it would get in the way,” Cloud said. He may have led with an absolutely ridiculous topic, but he was committed now. “Or cut on your sword.” 

“How kind of you to be concerned for my wellbeing,” Sephiroth said, with the slightest hint of a smirk. “Is that why you ran over here like the Planet was on fire?” 

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “You almost set it on fire. And it was hard fuckin work stopping you. I don’t want to do it over again, do you?” 

Sephiroth studied him for a moment. “There were seven moments during this conversation where I could have killed you, Strife.” 

Cloud had come too far and seen too much shit to let a threat like that get to him. “Every time you underestimate me, you end up dying.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Sephiroth looked annoyed, and surprisingly, it made him seem more human than almost anything else. “My point, if you’ll let me finish, was that I haven’t tried to kill you. In fact, I saved your life and sent you back to this world. If I was going to summon another Meteor, I would behave entirely differently. So Cloud, please attempt to act logically  _ for once in your life _ and leave me be.” 

Sephiroth did have a point, Cloud grudgingly conceded. But then, he had trusted Sephiroth before, as a wide-eyed cadet. More importantly,  _ Zack  _ had trusted Sephiroth, and all he’d gotten for that was a wound from the Masamune and five years in Hojo’s mako tanks. 

“So what are you up to?” Cloud asked. “Why go after Vincent?” 

“How many times did you kill me, Strife?” Sephiroth’s eyes were hard and cold. “I don’t believe I owe you any answers beyond this: I have no plans to end this planet’s existence.” 

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just ask Vincent. He’s a lot nicer than you are, anyway.” 

Sephiroth’s eyes flashed briefly with anger. “He’s old enough to be your father, he’s possessed by a demon, and he relies on  _ guns _ .” 

The last part was related with so much distaste Cloud almost laughed. “I don’t see what any of that has to do with anything.” 

“Merely observations.” Sephiroth took a step back and lifted the Masamune over his shoulder with a sly smile. “If you can defeat me, I’ll answer any question you want.” 

#

Cid set his beer on the worn wooden coffee table and got up, parting the curtains to look out into the backyard. “They’re fightin’” he said. “Reckon we oughta go out there?” 

Vincent watched Cloud bend backward, the Masamune slicing the air mere centimeters above his flexible form, then leap impossibly high in the air to bring First Tsurugi barreling downwards towards Sephiroth’s head. 

The Masamune met First Tsurugi midair, but the force of the blow was enough to stagger Sephiroth just slightly. The ring of steel on steel filled the air, and with it, undetectable to anyone without enhanced senses, was Cloud’s soft, triumphant laugh. 

_ “Do you remember when we beat Sephiroth?” Cloud asked Vincent one night as they were lying together in bed. It always took Vincent a while to piece himself back together after making love to Cloud, who was the kind of man Vincent’s mother always said would “take a piece of your heart and run off with it.” Cloud was always uncharacteristically chatty after sex, and Vincent was always happy to lie there and listen to Cloud talk, hanging on every word like a lovesick teenager rather than an old--and immortal--possessed corpse.  _

_ “Of course I remember,” Vincent said.  _

_ “Nothing has ever felt that good.” Cloud put his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. “Beating him...it was the best moment of my life.”  _

_ Vincent said nothing. He was keenly aware that the activities they’d just been engaged in were firmly in second place--or worse. No one could replace Sephiroth as the central pillar of Cloud’s life. But Vincent loved Cloud too much not to try.  _

“Can’t tell who’s winning,” Cid said, scratching the back of his neck as he watched the battle rage. “But Tifa’ll fuckin murder me if he don’t come back in one piece.” 

“They’ll be fine,” Vincent said, and closed the curtains again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Vincent. now I made myself sad....


	7. Chapter 7

The duel had ended up as more of a draw and Sephiroth had infuriatingly refused to answer any questions. They’d bickered until Vincent came out and called them to dinner like wayward children. Now, night had fallen all around them, the small, isolated cabin wrapped in a thick quilt of silence. Sephiroth was standing in the corner, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed like the silver-haired elephant no one wanted to acknowledge was in the room. Cid, on his fourth gin and tonic--he switched to cocktails after dark like a “fucking gentleman”--was actually chatting with him. At him. Whatever. 

Cloud pulled Vincent aside, leading him into the kitchen. “Do you know why he came here?” he asked. 

Vincent set down the dishes he’d carried in with him, the remains of fresh vegetables from the gardens on the pale china. “He wants to find his mother. His real mother.” 

“Lucrecia,” Cloud murmured. Vincent no longer flinched when someone said her name, but he still got that lovelorn look in his eye. More often, that expression was for Cloud. 

“Yes.” Vincent turned from him, sliding the dishes into the sink. “I refused to give up her location.” 

“Why?” Cloud asked, baffled. It was a much more reasonable request than he thought Sephiroth was even capable of making. 

“I told Lucrecia, years ago, that her son was dead. To know he is alive will not bring her joy, Cloud.” 

“She’s his mom,” Cloud said. “Vincent...he deserves to know her.” And certainly she bore at least a little of the blame for what Sephiroth would become. 

Vincent turned to face him, soap suds on his wet hand and glistening on the golden claw. “He deserves many things, most of them terrible. But he does not deserve you. Don’t forget that, Cloud.” 

Cloud blinked at him, wondering what that had to do with anything. 

“You may take him to the cave where she waits, if you want,” Vincent said, turning back to the sink. “I will not stop you.”

“Vincent.” Cloud could tell this was difficult for Vincent to say, to offer. He put his hand on Vincent’s shoulder and tugged gently until he could see those vivid red eyes meet his own. “Thank you.” 

Vincent smiled, just slightly, and planted a kiss on his forehead. 

Back in the living room, Cid was telling Sephiroth about taking the rocket into space during Meteorfall to steal the Huge Materia. 

“And the fuckin’ Shinra,” Cid snorted laughter, “they never even saw it comin, those fucks.” 

Sephiroth glanced at Cloud, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You mean Shinra had a plan to stop the Meteor, and you foiled it?” 

Cloud scowled. “The fuck do you know? You were hiding out in Northern Crater behind an energy shield.” 

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Sephiroth smirked. “Even I know that, Cloud.” 

Beside him, Cid actually giggled, the gin and tonic in his hand sloshing as he waved it at them. “You should see Cloud when he gets goin’,” he told Sephiroth. “Our fearless leader.” His words were slurred, but still carried with them such tangible fondness Cloud had to look away for a moment. 

 “We’ll take you to Lucrecia, if Cid’s willing,” he told Sephiroth. 

Sephiroth raised a silver eyebrow. “If you just give me her location, I’m sure I can find my own way.” 

Cloud shook his head. “It’s only accessible from the air.” 

“Have you already forgotten that I can fly?” Sephiroth asked sharply. “I don’t need a babysitter, Strife.” 

“Sorry.” Cloud shrugged. “I know this is kinda personal for you. But yeah. You do need a babysitter. We can swing by what’s left of Midgar if you wanna know why.” 

Sephiroth held his gaze for a long moment, like he was deciding whether or not to cut Cloud in half from across the room. Cloud glared defiantly back at him. He wasn’t some green Shinra recruit barely able to hold a sword. He wasn’t even the lost soul with a broken mind that he’d been on his first quest to stop Sephiroth. 

He was Zack Fair’s legacy and he’d saved the planet more than once. Sephiroth might not think they were equals, but he was wrong. 

“I’ll prep the Highwind,” Cid said cheerfully, but gave them a wide berth as he left the room, staggering only slightly. 

“You’ve missed me,” Sephiroth said, with a different sort of intensity. He had ignored Cid entirely, focused only on Cloud. 

Cloud snorted. “Why the hell would I miss you?” 

“What good is the sharpest knife in the world, without something to cut?” Sephiroth watched Cloud intently, like he knew just how that sentiment would hit Cloud like a punch to the gut. Because it was monstrous, and because it was true.

“I’m not like you,” Cloud said, crossing his arms. He felt oddly exposed and vulnerable. “I’m more than just a weapon.”

“You’re not like me because you deny it,” Sephiroth said. “But I am here, whenever you feel the need to test your edge.” He bowed, Wutaiian style, and stalked out of the room. 

Cloud watched him go, scowling. “I’m more than just a weapon,” he repeated to himself. It was something that he’d been trying to learn, recently. He thought of Sephiroth, and how Sephiroth had been taught the opposite from the time he was old enough to learn anything. 

It didn’t excuse anything, but it still made the rest of Cloud’s anger ebb away, leaving him with a vague and nebulous cluster of emotions he didn’t really want to identify or examine. 

#

“C’mere,” Cloud said, standing in the corner of the cabin where Sephiroth was sitting, reading through a long-winded account of the Deepground Crisis in an attempt to catch up on some of the things he’d missed over the past few years. 

They’d been on the Highwind for about twelve hours, and would reach Lucrecia’s cave, as Cloud called it, the following morning. Most of the crew seemed terrified of Sephiroth, so out of courtesy he’d stayed in his cabin as much as possible. 

“I wanna show you something,” Cloud said impatiently, so Sephiroth put a bookmark in his book and followed Cloud up a set of stairs onto the deck.

Cloud led Sephiroth to the railing--they seemed to be the only people present--and spread his arms with a smile. Everything was bathed in a vivid orange glow as the sun kissed the sea at the edge of the horizon, casting a sparkling trail of light across the water. 

“It’s beautiful, right?” Cloud said. 

Sephiroth put his hands on the railing and looked out over the water. “Are you showing me this in the hopes that it will dissuade me from trying to destroy the planet a second time?” 

“Not really.” Cloud shrugged. “I just thought you’d like it.” 

“I do.” The last of the sunlight was warm, the sea breeze was pleasantly cool, and the metal rudder of the Highwind was lit as brilliantly as a lantern in the golden glow. 

Cloud seemed content to stand in silence together and watch as the sun slowly slipped below the water’s edge. Sephiroth was filled with the odd desire to touch him--to take his hand or brush his cheek or run his fingers through that ridiculous spiky hair. 

It was an odd and yet not unfamiliar sensation. 

Sephiroth had always had the same simple desires as anyone else--to be fed and warm, to be free from pain and fear. And he had more sophisticated desires, which centered around violence, as they would for anyone who had been raised and educated as he had. The drive to defeat his enemies, to grow in strength, and to conquer what was before him. Before Jenova, before Cloud, he had always met with success. 

But he was also aware of a third type of desire, a wanting so deeply entrenched he could feel it pull in his bones, an inexorable yearning. Helplessly, cruelly, he had always dreamed of freedom, imagining what it would be to no longer answer to Shinra. To no longer have Jenova’s malevolent will so tightly intertwined with his own that he could not tell them apart. To fly wherever the sky took him, with no destination at all. 

What he felt now, looking down at the play of evening light on Cloud Strife’s pale skin, was that third kind of wanting, for something beautiful but impossible, something that was not meant for him.

He knew love well enough, had felt its violent force driving him to the most atrocious of his crimes. Mother had loved him, and he had worshipped her in return. For her love, he had immolated himself and nearly taken the Planet with him. 

In Sephiroth’s experience, love was sacrifice and ruin, a surrender of the self beneath a burning sky. 

Even so, he could not stop falling.


	8. Chapter 8

Cloud sat by the worn dock that jutted out over the lake near Lucrecia’s cave. Occasionally he got up to idly check his fishing lines, but not much was biting. Frequently, he cast worried glances at the dark cavern Sephiroth had walked into about three hours ago and still had not emerged from. 

Some instinct told Cloud that Sephiroth was different, this time around. That he was not the demigod who summoned a Meteor and nearly wiped out all life on the Planet. However, even before Jenova he had been, essentially, a weapon of mass destruction. One that was dangerous enough when in the hands of a soulless corporation like Shinra, but perhaps even more so now that he answered to no authority but his own.

If he decided to merge with an alien Calamity and bring about worldwide ruin, Cloud would know how to stop him. But if he wanted to assemble an army and conquer another nation? Cloud wasn’t sure if he could really prevent that.

So he fretted about it as he checked the fishing lines again, pulling up a sickly pale, mutated trout from the caves beneath. He tossed it back with a sigh. 

Before he got off the Highwind with Sephiroth, he’d promised Cid that he had a plan for what came after. That had been, and continued to be, a complete lie. Strategy was not really his forte anyway. His solutions tended to rely on his own brute strength rather than any kind of elegant misdirection. 

“You look pensive.” Sephiroth’s voice startled him, and he turned quickly, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. He caught himself halfway through the motion and sheepishly lowered his hand. 

“How’d it go?” Cloud asked. 

Sephiroth was quiet for a moment, inscrutable. “She won’t talk to me.” 

“Huh.” Cloud was not a comforting person at the best of times. Sephiroth was the one who was good with words, whose taunts would always cut to the bone. “Well, that sucks.” 

A flicker of amusement crossed Sephiroth’s face. “Indeed.” 

A moment of silence passed between them, Sephiroth studying his face a little too intently. Cloud turned away, cheeks flushing for some reason he couldn’t begin to figure out. 

“Are you done babysitting now?” Sephiroth asked. 

Cloud crossed his arms. “Depends on what you’re gonna do next.” 

“I’m going to stay here.” 

“You’re...what?” 

“I’m going to stay here until she speaks to me.” 

That sounded dangerously obsessive. Cloud hesitated, realizing he was reluctant to let Sephiroth out of his sight. 

“You are more than welcome to leave, now,” Sephiroth continued. “Surely the savior of the planet has better things to do with his time.” 

“Not really.” Cloud shrugged. “The problems we got now can’t be solved with a sword.” 

“Maybe you just need to be more creative in how you apply it.” 

Cloud laughed, a little surprised at the notion of Sephiroth telling a joke. Or maybe he was being serious. It was pretty hard to tell. 

“We got camping gear on the Highwind if you want it,” Cloud said. “Roughing it out here isn’t gonna be fun, though. It’s pretty now but it will get really cold when the sun goes down.” 

Sephiroth nodded. “I’d appreciate it.” 

#

“You’re outta your goddamn mind,” Cid said around his cigarette. He sounded annoyed but not particularly surprised. 

“He doesn’t want to kill me,” Cloud said, struggling to carry a tent and two bedrolls and a bag of cooking gear while Cid watched him unhelpfully. 

“He ain’t never wanted to kill you,” Cid said. “The rest of us, sure, but not you.” 

Cloud snorted. “He put his sword through my chest. Twice.” 

“And you didn’t die.” Cid crossed his arms like that statement wrapped his point up in a tidy bow.  “Y’see?”

“No,” Cloud said, fumbling to keep everything in his grip as he made for the deck. “I don’t see. Are you gonna help me or what?” 

But he thought about it, later, as the shadow of the departing airship crossed over him while he was setting up camp for two. When he’d returned with the camping supplies, he’d seen Sephiroth ducking back into the cave, so he was alone in the meadow beside the lake, for now. 

The first time, Sephiroth had wanted to kill him. He was sure of it. Sephiroth had been furious that Cloud had disrupted his plan, had momentarily pulled his attention away from his “Mother.” The sword had pierced his heart, and Cloud would have died if not for Hojo’s mad brilliance. During his journey to stop Sephiroth, he had occasionally wondered if he had died, there on that reactor floor, and if this was the hell that came after. 

These days, he was in a better place, mentally. Maybe not exactly happy or particularly good at interpersonal relationships, but stable. He knew who he was, now, and that made all the difference. 

“What are you doing?” Sephiroth asked, emerging from the cave and quickly crossing the grassy open space between them. “Your ride just left.” 

“I’m sticking around,” Cloud said, with a sheepish shrug. “I gotta see how this turns out.” 

“Your presence is not welcome or necessary,” Sephiroth said. “This may come as a shock to you, Strife, but dealing with my mother is a highly personal matter, and I’d rather not have you intruding.” 

Cloud could have said something to remind Sephiroth about what happened last time he tried to resolve a personal issue with a mother figure, but he felt like he had belabored that point enough. Sephiroth was right--he was intruding. It wasn’t like him to want to be in the middle of a family conflict, but his instincts had told him to stay, so he did. 

“Maybe I just wanna spend a little more time with you,” he said, expecting Sephiroth to laugh at the absurdity. But Sephiroth just blinked at him, startled. Probably he was as bad at reading interpersonal cues as Cloud was. 

“Let me help you put up the tent,” Sephiroth said, carefully sidestepping the issue altogether. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sephiroth wasn’t sure why he was so insistent on getting an answer out of his mother. They had been at the camp beside the lake for three days, and each day he’d spent several hours beside her crystalline prison, waiting for her to acknowledge him. He’d come hoping for guidance, but really, all he wanted was to be noticed. 

“You know, Jenova was more of a mother than you are,” he said, sighing. Lucrecia did not answer, or call him back as he left the cave. 

It was harsh, perhaps, but also true. Jenova, at least, had loved him. 

Across the meadow, Cloud was sitting on the dock, his PHS pressed to his ear. In their windless crater, with his enhanced hearing, Sephiroth could easily make out his words from a hundred feet away. 

“Can you do something, Vincent? She won’t even speak to him.” Cloud listened for a moment, tilting his head. “I know, but--” He turned, glancing at Sephiroth. “Look, I gotta go. Just think about it, okay? Yeah, I will...Me too. You know I do, Vince. I’ll see you soon, promise.” 

Sephiroth felt that familiar flare of irritation whenever Valentine’s name was mentioned. He didn’t like to think of the way Cloud had smiled at that man, or that familiar nickname.  _ Vince.  _ He narrowed his eyes and crossed the meadow quickly. 

“You don’t need to involve your companions in my affairs,” he said sharply. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Cloud waved at him dismissively. “They’re not helping, so don’t worry.” 

In the last few days, Cloud had become habituated to his presence, and no longer startled or reached for a weapon when Sephiroth approached. It hadn’t taken long, but then Sephiroth supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at Cloud’s pragmatism or adaptability. He would have made a fine SOLDIER, if he had stayed. 

Sephiroth could almost picture a different life for them, the story as it might have been. Cloud, rising through the ranks of SOLDIER, Sephiroth guiding his progress. There might have been respect between them, friendship, maybe even some kind of affection. 

Instead he was left with this inexplicable yearning for Cloud’s attention, his proximity, his regard. It was utter madness that the only person on the Planet he truly wanted to look at him with warmth was the very last person who was likely to do so. 

Genesis had always accused him of being terrible at reading social cues, and it was true. But what he had done to Cloud over the long and bloodied scope of their history was unforgivable, and he was certain Cloud would never be able to look at him without seeing the fires of Nibelheim just behind him. 

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you not to stare?” Cloud said, with a slight smile. And then he coughed, awkwardly. “I mean...it’s just a saying.” 

“I know what you mean,” Sephiroth said, pulling his gaze from Cloud’s face to look up at the foreboding sky. “It’s probably going to rain tonight.” 

They had a single tent, just barely large enough for two people who didn’t mind each other’s company, but they had both spent the last three nights sleeping under the stars. The rain, however, would make that much less pleasant. 

#

The rain started after dark, a steady downpour that drummed incessantly on the roof of the tent. They had a small battery-powered lantern in one corner that cast everything in honeyed yellow. Cloud was typing a text on his PHS, and Sephiroth had a book in his hand, grateful that his enhanced vision made it possible to read in such low light. 

Cloud seemed upset by whatever texts kept lighting up his phone, frowning intently at them before he finally turned it off with a sigh. 

Sephiroth caught his gaze from across the tent and raised an eyebrow. 

“Friends.” Cloud shrugged. “They’re supportive. But...I dunno.” He sighed again, ran his hand through his hair, mussing up the blonde spikes. “How come you didn’t kill me?” he blurted out. 

“I told you,” Sephiroth began, annoyed that this was still an issue. “I don’t do that anymore.” 

“No. I mean, when we fought. Above Midgar. You stabbed me through the chest and you missed my heart by an inch.”

“I may not have been completely in my right mind,” Sephiroth admitted.

Cloud snorted in amusement. “That’s putting it lightly. Remember how you asked me what I cherished most?”

“So I could take it away.” Sephiroth studied Cloud curiously. “If I asked you again now, what would you say you cherish most? Vincent Valentine, maybe?” 

“I don’t know,” Cloud said, then hesitated, looking guilty. “I do care about Vincent. I cherish all of them, all of my friends.”

“It must be nice to have so many you can trust,” Sephiroth said. When he was in SOLDIER, he had been close to both Angeal and Genesis. They were perhaps the only people he’d ever trusted. He had learned many things from them, chief among them that trust makes you weak. Those you care for can quickly become your enemies, and they alone will know exactly where to strike.

“Yeah.” Cloud gave him a brief smile. “But it also means a lot of people you can’t let down. A lot of lives to protect.” 

Sephiroth nodded. He supposed that must be true. He could remember a time when he would have leaped in front of a blade at the cost of his own life to protect Genesis. Though it would have stung Genesis’s pride to know that Sephiroth thought of him as someone to be protected. 

“It’s okay, though,” Cloud said. “Zack gave his life to protect me. I’m just passing on the favor.” 

Sephiroth studied him in the warm lamplight. There was sorrow etched on his face, but it was muted, as though he had mostly laid that grief to rest. “Will you tell me what happened to Zack? I...I remember fighting him, in the reactor. And then, when I returned to life, he was already dead. I was fond of him, and I would like to know how he died.” 

Cloud took a deep breath, sitting up straighter. He swallowed hard. “Sure,” he said. “Uh, geez. Where to start. I guess after you left us both dying in the reactor, Shinra picked us up. Hojo had us for five years before Zack broke us out. I had mako addiction, so I was pretty much deadweight, and I don’t remember everything. Just flashes of us running from Shinra troops, hiding out in the desert around Midgar.”

Cloud paused, his jaw set and tense as he stared at the ground for a long moment. Sephiroth wished that he knew how to reach across the distance between them--not so far in the confines of the small tent, but vast nevertheless. 

“I just.” Cloud cleared his throat, blinking. “He woulda made it to Midgar. But I slowed him down. That’s why he died. It took dozens of Shinra infantry to bring him down. I remember the gunshots and the...and the blood. And he said--” Cloud’s voice broke, and he looked away, brushing the back of his hand roughly over his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Sephiroth said, as gently as he could. Seeing Cloud in pain was oddly distressing. “You don’t have to talk about it.” 

Cloud nodded. He drew his knees to his chest, a gesture that made him look younger and more vulnerable.

“I remember Zack as exuberant,” Sephiroth said. “Full of life. He would go to ridiculous lengths to try and make me laugh. “Don’t be so serious all the time, Seph,” he would say, before doing something idiotic.” 

Cloud gave him a wan smile. “Yeah. Sounds like him.” 

“I also knew his character,” Sephiroth said. “And I can promise you, he would not have regretted giving his life to protect someone he cared about.”

“I know,” Cloud murmured. “He was a good man.” 

“One of the best,” Sephiroth agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trapped in a small tent in the rain and they get maudlin and don't even kiss...what even is this? Don't worry though--I promise kissing later on.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for child abuse  
> TW for attempted suicide (by Lucrecia)

It was on the sixth day that Lucrecia finally spoke. Not to Sephiroth, not to Cloud, but to Vincent. It had taken a lot of persuading to get Vincent to come, and even more to get Sephiroth to agree to it, but Cloud was tired of the stalemate. Lucrecia had nothing better to do but sit ensconced in crystal for eons, but Cloud was getting restless. 

“Don’t you dare stab him,” Cloud murmured to Sephiroth as they followed Vincent up the path to the waterfall cavern. “I can tell you want to.” 

“I would have already,” Sephiroth said dryly. “Only I have a feeling you would get in the way.” 

“Damn right I would,” Cloud whispered. 

It was impossible to get into the cave without getting soaked. While they didn’t have to actually walk through the bulk of the falling water, the spray made the path slick and treacherous, and both Sephiroth and Vincent’s long locks were drenched by the end of it, dripping on the floor as they approached Lucrecia’s crystal. 

She opened her eyes. They glowed like mako. 

“Vincent,” she whispered. 

“Hello, Lucrecia,” Vincent said. “Do you see who I’ve brought with me? This is your son.” 

“No.” She shook her head. “No. My son is dead. I held him in my arms when he died.”

“My love.” Vincent stepped forward. “Years ago, I told you he had died. That was a lie, and I’m sorry. He wants to speak to you now.”

“Sephiroth is dead,” Lucrecia said, the pitch of her voice rising. “I did what I had to, Vincent! I did what I had to. I saved the Planet...I saved…” 

“What do you mean?” Sephiroth asked. His voice was cool and steady, and his gaze didn’t waver. 

“My Sephiroth...he had silver hair. Like yours. But he was just a baby. Just a baby when I…” 

“What did you do?” Sephiroth’s voice was louder now, echoing through the cavern like the cracking of a whip. Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Vincent reach for the gun at his hip. 

“I saw what would happen. I saw the Meteor. I saw this world end in fire and it was all because of me.” Lucrecia fell forward, catching herself on the inside of the crystal with both palms. Tears ran down her cheeks, blue and glowing with mako. “I saw what he would become. It was my fault. A million deaths; my fault. So I...did what I had to do.” 

Vincent drew in a short, sharp breath. “Lucrecia. You didn’t.” 

“I did.” A shudder ran through her. “I took him to the reactor. My baby. It was the first time I had ever held him. He didn’t know me. He didn’t want me to hold him.” 

Cloud held his breath, his heart racing, aching in his chest. They all were speechless, watching Lucrecia sob. 

She turned her face away from them. “I walked into the center of the reactor. Sephiroth wouldn’t stop crying--he wouldn’t...and then he saw Jenova. He stopped crying and reached for her. And then I knew--all the visions would come true. I knew it in my heart. So I held him in my arms and jumped.” 

For a moment, there was complete silence in the cave, broken only by the steady roar of the nearby waterfall. 

And then Sephiroth turned on his heel and walked out. 

Lucrecia said some more things, Vincent moving closer to comfort her or chastise her, Cloud wasn’t sure. He left them to it. 

Outside the waterfall cave, he could see Sephiroth at the edge of the pool below the precarious path, pulling off his long black jacket and letting his wing fully extend. 

“Hey,” Cloud called down to him, hurrying down the slick stone pathway to catch up to him. “Where do you think you’re going? I—”

In his worry about Sephiroth’s next move, Cloud completely lost his focus, and let himself slip on the narrow path. In an instant he was tumbling off the ledge into the open air. It was a long way to the lake below, and he braced himself for the hard slap of the water, but it never came. 

Instead, he found himself held steady in a pair of warm, strong arms. He flushed with embarrassment, but Sephiroth wasn’t overtly gloating, which made the situation a little easier to bear. 

“Thanks,” Cloud mumbled, as Sephiroth set him gently on the ground beside the dock. 

“I’m not planning on summoning another meteor,” Sephiroth said grimly. “But I’m not going to stay here. I...need to be alone.” 

In any other circumstances, Cloud would  _ never  _ push himself on someone suffering like this. It wasn’t his interpersonal style to force his way into other people’s affairs. But his instincts told him not to let Sephiroth alone, and his memories--of Nibelheim, of the depths of Northern Crater, of the stormy sky above the Midgar ruins--backed it up. 

“Sorry,” Cloud said. “You’re stuck with me.”

Sephiroth sighed, looking utterly annoyed. 

“Don’t try and fly away,” Cloud added. “Unless you want me to jump on your back.” 

“If you want to come with me, I’m going to have to carry you,” Sephiroth said. Before Cloud could fully process that alarming statement, he found himself lifted bridal style again, and with a great downward sweep of Sephiroth’s wing, they were airborne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on tumblr posted a picture of Lucrecia in her crystal and Sephiroth in his mako shell later on, saying how they looked similar. Their idea was that maybe Lucrecia had tried to kill herself by jumping into the reactor. At the same time, I started thinking about how Lucrecia did it because she was haunted by visions of Sephiroth trying to destroy the world. And I thought...what if she felt compelled to do something to stop those visions from coming true? 
> 
> Anyway, it's not meant to be character hate--I think there are lots of ways to interpret Lucrecia and this is just one of them. 
> 
> Fluff in the next chapter, promise!


	11. Chapter 11

“Dp you really have to carry me like this?” Cloud asked, squirming in Sephiroth’s arms like he wasn’t being held a hundred feet above the ground. 

Cloud always seemed to think he was invincible, and Sephiroth wondered when he’d started to find that endearing instead of aggravating. 

_No, not aggravating. You enjoyed it. You enjoyed showing him that he could bleed just like anyone else._

Sephiroth did his best to ignore the chastising voice in his head. It sounded too much like Lucrecia. 

He had no memory of her at all, so why should he care what foolish thing she had done when he was only an infant? 

He didn’t care. He didn’t. 

_You do. Of course you do._

“Hey.” Cloud tugged on a lock of Sephiroth’s hair. “What are you thinking about?” 

“How easy it would be to drop you,” Sephiroth said. But he didn’t mean it, and the way Cloud rolled his eyes made him think Cloud knew that.

“Big bad Sephiroth,” Cloud said, smirking. “I’m so afraid. Where are you taking us, o terrifying angel of darkness?”

Well. It was good to know that some things Cloud did were still more aggravating than endearing. 

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Sephiroth said. 

Cloud studied his face, and Sephiroth resisted the urge to turn away, to try and hide himself. Cloud was too perceptive, and his brow furrowed like he could see the turmoil in Sephiroth’s heart. 

“Hey,” he said, looking down at the vast desert beneath them. “You ever fight in the sand?” 

Sephiroth shook his head. Wutai didn’t really have deserts, and Shinra’s rules about where he could go outside of what was necessary to win the war were very restrictive. 

“It’s interesting,” Cloud said. “Fucks up your footwork. You wanna try it?” 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a sword.” 

“Oh yeah?” Cloud grinned at him. “Put me down and we’ll see.” 

The chance to fight--even if it was just a spar--was appealing. A way to release all the agitation buzzing around inside Sephiroth. 

It was one thing to know that his mother had been absent his entire life. It was quite another to know that she had wished him dead, and herself. That her shame at birthing a monster was so great she couldn’t live with it. 

He pushed the thoughts aside, descending until he could set Cloud gently on the desert sand. 

Cloud reached out his hand, and in a flash of blue magic, a greatsword appeared. 

“Ha.” Cloud smirked at him. “You’re not the only one who can do it.” 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, the Masamune’s familiar cold hilt settling in his hand. “How did you do that?”

“In that other world, “Cloud said. “There was a guy. He was a king, I guess, but he really didn’t act like it. He gave it to me. I wasn’t sure if it would work now that we’re separated, but I guess it’s attuned to me for good.” 

“I see.” Sephiroth wondered if Cloud was referring to the “King of Light” that Ardyn was constantly complaining about. 

“So. Are you gonna fight me or what?” Cloud shifted into a ready stance, the sword held before him. 

“Are you sure you want to?” Their fights usually ended with a sword through Cloud’s chest, after all. 

Cloud grinned at him. “Afraid you’ll lose again?” 

Sephiroth answered that with a quick, ruthless thrust that should have pierced Cloud’s chest-- _you would pull back before wounding him, I know you would_ \--but Cloud stepped aside with breathtaking speed and a laugh that sounded more cheerful than mocking.

“You’re gonna have to be faster than that.” He raised his greatsword into the air and leaped at Sephiroth. 

#

The duel ended with their blades crossed, the two of them only a foot apart, locked in a stalemate. Their eyes met and to Sephiroth it felt like an electric current was crackling between them, making it difficult to breathe the longer Cloud looked at him like that. 

And then Cloud stepped back. “I guess it’s a tie,” he said good naturedly. 

“Fair enough.” Sephiroth’s body felt alive and invigorated by the exertion. Cloud was breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his brow, and it was very satisfying to know that their duel had tired him out. The sand had added a layer of complexity, making footwork more difficult and taxing. 

The fight had made him feel a lot better, and he wondered if Cloud had intended that, or if he simply wanted to spar. 

“Where are we going now?” Cloud asked, letting his greatsword disappear into thin air. 

Sephiroth pointed up at the glimmering gold structure in the distance, suspended precariously above the desert. 

“The Gold Saucer?” Cloud sounded surprised. “Gonna do some gambling?” 

“Not likely.” Sephiroth let Masamune dematerialize and lifted Cloud into his arms again, ignoring the indignant protests this inspired as he took to the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Noctis's armiger magic probably wouldn't work if they were in separate worlds. But it's soooo useful for the plot right now! I plead creative license.


	12. Chapter 12

It didn’t take long to reach the Gold Saucer. Sephiroth approached a familiar balcony at the edge of the disk and set Cloud down gently, immediately missing the warm feeling he got from having Cloud in his arms. The balcony door was unlocked, as he knew it would be. There was no need, after all, as this balcony was impossible to reach unless you had wings. Or  _ one wing _ , at least. 

Inside, it was decorated very much to Genesis’s tastes, lavish but not gaudy. The kind of subtle luxury that he had always favored.

Cloud whistled softly, looking around. “Whose place is this?” 

“It belongs to Genesis Rhapsodos. But he won’t mind if we stay a little while.” 

“Wow. He must be loaded.” Cloud’s eyes were wide and awed. “I didn’t even know he was still alive.” 

“He’s keeping a low profile.” 

“Guess so.” Cloud glanced at Sephiroth. “So were you planning to brood all evening? Or do you wanna see who can go more rounds in the Battle Square?” 

“As fun as it would be to defeat you in a public place, I imagine I would be recognized immediately,” Sephiroth said. His duel with Cloud above the ruins of Midgar had probably not generated what the Shinra executives used to call “productive PR.” 

Cloud shrugged. “You’d be surprised. Tie your hair back and put on something that’s not black. You’ll be fine.” 

Surprisingly, Cloud was right. With his hair tied back and wearing one of Genesis’s ridiculous burgundy shirts, no one looked twice at Sephiroth. 

The sight of his sword would likely change that, but he decided the resulting fallout would be Cloud’s problem. 

When he got into the square with Masamune in his hand, however, all he got was a comment on the sword’s length, asking if he was compensating for something. Cloud laughed more than was really necessary, until the commenter said something similar about the size of his summoned greatsword. 

Cloud went first, which gave Sephiroth the chance to admire his fighting form. In all of their duels, he had always been impressed by Cloud’s abilities, which were rough and mostly self-taught, but remarkably effective. But when he wasn’t trying to kill Cloud--or at least best him in a spar--Sephiroth could also appreciate the way Cloud moved, the fierce grace to his movements and the great strength of his body. In fact, he found himself  _ appreciating  _ the display a little too much.

_ Watching Cloud Strife swing a sword  _ seemed a very strange kink for someone in Sephiroth’s circumstances to have. But apparently that did it for him, and he had to force his body to calm down when it was his turn to get up and take Cloud’s place in the center of the arena. 

Cloud had defeated every round, so to win Sephiroth needed to best his score. It was no trivial task, but Cloud hadn’t counted on one thing--Sephiroth was largely immune to status effects. As the final challenge failed to turn him into a frog, he heard Cloud cursing among the cheers of the crowd. 

In the end, he beat Cloud’s high score by a decent margin, and was more pleased than such a small victory really warranted. 

“Cheater,” Cloud said, arms crossed, but he had a small smile on his face. 

Sephiroth was struck for a moment by just how surreal all this was. Cloud Strife, his mortal enemy, the man who killed him thrice over, and all he wanted to do was kiss that smile off Cloud’s mouth. 

“Well, whatever. The game was rigged anyway. Wanna get some dinner?” 

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?” 

“They’ve got a row of food carts over in the Event Square,” Cloud said, glancing hopefully at him. 

Because of the difference in height between them, Cloud always had to tilt his head slightly upward to meet Sephiroth’s eyes. Sephiroth quietly sighed and added it to the list of things he found maddeningly endearing--a list that was growing at an alarming rate. 

#

The evening had been  _ nice, _ Cloud realized with no small degree of shock. They’d gotten food at one of the carts near the Battle Square, then wandered through a few other places, talking about things that weren’t particularly important. Neither of them made any threats, or revealed any grand plans to destroy the Planet. And without all that, it was surprisingly comfortable. 

Maybe it was because they’d shared so many intimate moments already. Cloud knew the wide eyed, startled expression on Sephiroth’s face as he bled out in that strange twilight place where they’d fought their final duel in Northern Crater. Sephiroth had seen the desperation and fear in Cloud’s face when he picked up Zack’s weapon and ran towards the demon in the Nibelheim reactor, despite every instinct telling him to get the hell out of there. 

They bore the scars from each other’s swords, scars that marked their souls as well as their bodies. Somehow that had only made the connection between them stronger. Now that it wasn’t defined by hate, Cloud wasn’t sure what it was. But he was tangled in it all the same. 

He didn’t want to think about it but ended up brooding anyway, lying in the silky sheets of one of the ridiculously huge beds in Genesis’s suite. Sephiroth was in the next room, yet Cloud didn’t feel the need to sleep with one hand on his sword. 

Even so, he couldn’t get to sleep. So he was wide awake when he heard Sephiroth startle in the next room, gasping like a drowning man come up for air. The sound was clear even through the wall for someone with enhanced hearing. It sounded like he’d just woken up from a nightmare. 

Cloud stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, determined not to get up. He’d pushed his presence on Sephiroth enough for one day, and he really didn’t have any comfort to give. 

But he also thought about what Lucrecia had said, in the dimness of the cave, the roar of the waterfall coming from just outside. The inside of the Nibelheim reactor was burned into his memory, and when he closed his eyes he could see Sephiroth falling off the walkway. Only this time Sephiroth was just a child, a baby with silver hair and unnatural green eyes, disappearing into the mako glow. 

Lucrecia’s body must have cushioned his fall. There was no other way even Sephiroth could have survived. And the cold shudder that went through Cloud at the thought was what convinced him to get up. No one, not even Sephiroth, should have to work through this alone. 

Cloud knocked softly at Sephiroth’s door, then tried the doorknob. It turned easily--apparently Sephiroth was starting to trust him as well. 

Sephiroth was sitting up in bed, his knees drawn to his chest and his bright eyes distant and unfocused, like his mind was somewhere far away. Cloud had no strategy, no great ideas about what he should do. But that was okay. He always did best when he let instinct guide him.

“Hey,” he said, gently, climbing onto the bed and putting a tentative hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder. 

Sephiroth startled at the soft touch, then turned, eyes widening as if seeing Cloud for the first time. 

“Nightmare?” Cloud asked. “I get ‘em all the time.” He didn’t add that they were often about Sephiroth slaughtering his friends and setting fire to all the things he loved. At least, they used to be. He hadn’t had one of those since Sephiroth walked back into his life this third time. 

Sephiroth straightened out his long legs, sighing. “I dreamed I was falling.” 

_ Oh shit.  _

“You can fly. You’re not gonna fall.” Cloud pushed Sephiroth back down on the bed. Sephiroth didn’t fight the gentle pressure, but acquiesced alarmingly easily. “Now, get some sleep.” 

Sephiroth watched but said nothing as Cloud pulled the blankets over them both. 

“I’ll be here,” Cloud said. He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he just let that hopefully reassuring sentiment linger in the air between them. 


	13. Chapter 13

Cloud woke up feeling warm and comfortable, a strong arm draped around his midsection, holding him close to a firm chest. Sephiroth smelled vaguely of mako, but also a light, indefinable musk that was all his own. 

“Good morning,” he murmured, giving no indication that he was going to let Cloud go. 

“Hey,” Cloud said weakly. It felt good to be held like this--too good. “Sephiroth…”

“If this is a dream,” Sephiroth murmured, his hot breath on Cloud’s neck, “don’t wake me.” 

“I…don’t think it’s a dream. But--” 

“When we were fighting, above Midgar,” Sephiroth said, softly. “You never asked me what I cherish most.” 

“What would you say if I did?” Cloud was actually pretty curious, as Sephiroth seemed to have very little he considered dear. 

“You,” Sephiroth said, pressing a kiss to the side of Cloud’s neck, just below his ear. “I cherish you. More than anything else on this Planet.” 

“Me?” Cloud barely kept it from coming out as an indignant squeak. 

“What good is the sharpest blade in the world, with nothing to cut?” Sephiroth’s lips moved to trace the curve of Cloud’s ear, and Cloud’s body responded eagerly while his mind was still reeling, trying to catch up. 

“So the thing you cherish most is making me bleed,” Cloud grumbled, squirming in Sephiroth’s grasp, but not so aggressively that he was in any danger of Sephiroth letting go. “Lucky me. Why don’t you go pick on someone else for a while?” 

“Because.” Sephiroth pushed Cloud over until he was lying on his back, then leaned over him, looking every bit like the dangerous predator he was. “I don’t want to pick on anyone else. I only want you.” 

Sephiroth’s hair fell like a curtain around them, his luminescent green eyes tracking Cloud’s every expression. Cloud swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His heart was racing, but not with fear. 

“Shinra had a very specific system for new recruits,” Sephiroth murmured. “Do you remember? Their basic training was designed to break you down and build you up again to be the perfect fighter. Your instructors were brutal. Shinra chose them for that purpose. And yet. They could not break you.” 

Cloud felt all the air leave his chest in a rush when Sephiroth reached out and gently, gently brushed Cloud’s cheek, traced the curve of his lips, and then slipped lower to run down the contours of his bare throat. 

“They met with me to discuss you,” Sephiroth said, tilting his head with an expression that was almost amused. “Did you know that? They had never met someone so resistant. They asked me what to do. And I told them to be merciless.” 

Cloud swallowed. His skin felt hot and sensitive, his body aching to be touched. Sephiroth had never looked at him like this before. He wouldn’t have had to turn Cloud into his puppet if only he’d looked at him like this before, with this heady mix of desire and reverence. 

“But you wouldn’t break,” Sephiroth said, his hand slipping to Cloud’s waist, then up and under Cloud’s dark T-shirt. “No matter what I did, you just wouldn’t break. How could I not be fascinated with you?”

Cloud’s face flushed with desire and embarrassment, remembering those cadet days. “I had it pretty bad for you back then too.”

Sephiroth gave him a wicked grin. “I know.” 

Well, shit. And Cloud had thought, at sixteen, that he’d done a pretty good job of hiding the ridiculous crush he had on his hero. 

“But you didn’t know me then, Cloud,” Sephiroth said, his fingers slipping downward, over Cloud’s stomach to the top of his pajama pants. “And if you had, if you really had, you would have been disappointed in what you found, even before everything fell apart.” 

Cloud swallowed, trying to think clearly. Sephiroth’s warm fingers were slipping under the elastic waistband of his pants, teasing caresses on his lower abdomen. 

“But I would have changed, for you,” Sephiroth said, leaning closer. “I would have tried to be a better man, for you. But instead…” His lips brushed Cloud’s, just lightly. “Instead I’m the one who changed you.” 

He cut off Cloud’s response with a fierce, passionate kiss. Cloud tugged on long strands of silver hair, pulling him closer. 

“You’ve changed too,” Cloud said, when they parted. “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“Hmm.” Sephiroth’s strange eyes studied his face, searching for something. “Tell me you want this, Cloud.” 

Cloud took a deep breath. Above him was the man who had left his life in ruins, the man he’d killed three times to protect those he loved--and to avenge those he’d failed. 

Even so…

“I want you,” Cloud said. 

It felt like such a relief to say it out loud, to stop trying to fight whatever was building between them. To let go of so many years of hate and anger, and surrender instead to something that finally, finally felt right. 

And when Cloud was moving inside him, Sephiroth let desperate, pleading words fall from his lips. Cloud knew better than to believe the things a man says in the bedroom, but even so he would never forget the feel of Sephiroth arching into his thrusts and looking into his eyes, saying, “You’re mine, Cloud, my beautiful soldier. I’ll always--” 

Cloud would never forget the way Sephiroth looked when he came, either. 

And maybe the fierce affection in his eyes, the need apparent in his eager kisses and caresses, were just the result of the many, many years Sephiroth had spent alone. 

_But maybe it was something more._

On that day in Nibelheim, Sephiroth’s fall from grace fractured the world Cloud had once believed in. Like a shattered vase, he had tried to put himself together again, only to find the edges no longer matched up, and there were pieces missing. 

This, he realized with some surprise, was one of the pieces that had gotten lost. How he felt about Sephiroth--how he had always felt about Sephiroth, even before everything went so horribly wrong. And it seemed their connection hadn’t been one-sided at all, even when he was just a cadet. 

Cloud had spent so much time fighting the ties that bound him to Sephiroth. To let that go, to give in to the inexorable pull drawing them together, was like setting down a heavy burden. 

He closed his eyes, resting his head against Sephiroth’s chest, and let himself drift. There was no need to be vigilant, to always be alert for danger, not when Sephiroth’s arms were around him. 

They slept the morning away, curled together, and neither of them dreamed. 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm actually really sad this is done. It's more introspective than some of my other stories and I really enjoyed writing it because of that. Maybe someday a sequel....


End file.
